Afterglow
by ZBBZL
Summary: "His kisses taste like vanilla and chocolate and him. And maybe a tiny bit like love." KD.


_To Jess who still hasn't killed me after all those bad, sucky snippets I've sent her and dared call stories._

* * *

She doesn't know what to call it, what she feels when he wraps his arms around her in the afterglow.

It feels good, incredibly good. His body is warm, his scent soft, and the combination brings her old friends she never thought she'd meet again: comfort and reassurance. He makes her feel adored, worshipped when he flutters kisses and tiny bites all over her body, but when he holds her in his arms, hugging her tightly, impossibly close ? She feels cared for, and maybe, _maybe_ the tiniest bit…

_Don't go there, Kensi._

The physical, she _can_ explain – he makes her feel alive, he sets her senses aflame, he stokes a fire burning deep in the pit of her belly with one lingering look, stormy blue eyes roaming all over her across the bullpen or in the intimacy of a dim-lit and candle-filled bedroom; with one caress, one stroke, one brush of fingers, feather-light or bold, always gentle, always knocking the air out of her because suddenly she can't breathe, she can't think, all she can see and feel is _him_. Him, kissing every exposed patch of skin, softly sucking that spot behind her ear, his hands touching her everywhere, bringing heat in their wake. Him, locking his eyes with hers one last time, almost as if seeking permission, looking for signs of _what_, he doesn't know, but that he never finds, before he makes her his.

What happens _before_, she easily gives in, can find plenty of reasons to – it feels great, they _are_ great together like this. It's that _feeling_ that comes after, the warmth settling over her heart in the afterglow, the soft sighs escaping her on their own volition, the smile tugging at her lips when she feels his dancing over the skin of her neck or temple, the tiny moans when he gently bites, that she can't – or _won't_ – explain.

_It will go away_, she tries to reason, hoping it could be so easy.

It never does. If anything, the feeling only grows stronger when she wakes up to him still holding her close, never letting go of her or leaving the bed until she's come awake; when he slips in the shower behind her, playfully teasing her until memories from last night become the present all over again. When he navigates in her kitchen, easily finding every utensil, fixing her breakfast (she doesn't know how he does it, but he always finds something sort of healthy in her cupboards) as the coffee brews.

And then, there's the moment that always kind of takes her breath away. Deeks turns to the door, about to leave for his morning surf, and he gives her that little lopsided smile; it's him, sweet and adorable, giving his features boyish looks that years of undercover and a childhood ripped away from him so early don't show often. But there's something else there – hesitation, unease – as he speaks, always asking the same question. "You picking me up later ?"

Of course she will. But she understands why he _needs_ to be reassured about that; he gets her, he knows about her past and her own insecurities. He knows she has commitment issues. He knows that there's still a whole world in between letting him stay the night and make love to her, and Kensi actually acknowledging it for what it is.

He's sure those are not the words she uses in her head. But that's what it is, though.

But this morning, she surprises him. Instead of kissing him quickly and saying _yes, sure_, she grabs his arm gently and pulls him to her, bringing her lips to his in a slow, sweeter kiss. It lingers for a moment, and when they come up for air, she just smiles.

"Give me a minute and I'm coming with you, beach boy."

It's that morning, and that grin on his lips, that confirm her what she's been suspecting all along.

* * *

"We need a bigger place," he laughs one Saturday evening as they've been catching up with an entire season of Jersey Shore that she saved up on _his_ DVR all day, Kensi lazily curled up to his side. She stiffens in his arms, wondering when he started thinking about them like this (and maybe freaking out just a tiny bit), but Deeks just shrugs, gesturing to his messy living-room. "A room just for your trinkets. I'm surprised no one's dead already, looks like a bomb was dropped in here," he smirks.

Kensi looks up, and she doesn't have to force the little smile that grows on her lips as she takes in the inside of his apartment. She doesn't know how or when it happened, but… She _thinks_ she's sort of living with Deeks, now – her mess scattered all over his usual neatness is _proof_ of that. She still has her own place, but it feels like forever since she's slept in her own bed; she prefers Deeks'. It feels like every time she comes here, she brings something from there: it starts with clothes and a toothbrush, and then a handful of Twinkies and ho-hos to fill his cupboards, a couple chick flicks she makes him sit through until the very end. And then, things she doesn't want to leave behind as she spends less and less time at her house; things that mean a lot to her, things she's slowly starting to share with him.

Her father's sniper journal lays in one of the nightstand beside his bed, along with his medal.

She showed him the picture of her and her dad_. That's a start_, Kensi reckons.

"Or maybe you could get rid of some of your stuff," she teases, stretching like a cat until she's lying on the couch, her head resting on his lap. She looks up at him, a proud smirk of her own dancing on her lips, and Deeks just chuckles, bringing a hand to her hair, fingers gently sifting through dark waves. "What ?" she asks, half-smiling, half-annoyed – mostly smiling, really, and feeling happily silly.

"Nothing, Fern," he replies softly, letting his fingertips gently graze the skin of her forehead, down her temple. It's almost too much, the way he's looking at her, this reverence in his eyes that she's not sure how to handle; but then it's gone as soon as it's come, and the playful spark is back in his baby blues. "I think Snooki's glittering excuse for a dress just blinded me. You mind if we do something else ?" he asks, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively.

In the back of her mind, she thinks she _giggles_ at that. But maybe it's just a trick of her imagination. "Mind out of the gutter, missy," he half-accuses, half-mocks her as he rolls his eyes. "I was just merely thinking of something along the lines of burgers, fries and…" His grin grows wider as he traces the contour of her lips with a single tip. "Let's see…vanilla ice cream with…peanut brickle pieces and caramel swirl, is that okay ?" Kensi nods eagerly, and Deeks thinks that she's never looked more adorable than right now, smiling so freely, and just the thought threatens to make him say something very stupid like _I love you_. He doesn't, though; instead, he just continues, teasing her. "With whipped cream, rainbow sprinkles and chocolate syrup, of course. I wouldn't want to offend your sweet tooth with something as ridiculously random as a poor bowl of ice-cream."

"You know better than that indeed," Kensi says smugly, lifting up a hand to pat his cheek affectionately. "So… Why are you still _there_ and not making me this ?" she half-asks, half-orders.

"Maybe that's because you're lying on me, Princess," he suggests, letting his free hand drop to her side, lazily drawing circles on the soft skin hidden underneath the fabric of her tank top. "Not that I mind…"

Kensi sits up, bounces on her feet and saunters to the kitchen before he can even react. She's already setting the table for two when he finally does, and the vision – Kensi being so _domestic _– never ceases to amaze him. She cocks an eyebrow, a puzzled look on her face upon catching him staring at her, and for a moment Deeks just stays there, mouth open. She's about to ask him what's wrong when he walks to her and slips behind her, gently laying a hand on her hip as the other pushes aside her hair in one braid over her shoulder, and he leans in to drop a kiss to the now exposed skin of her neck.

_She_ ends up suggesting they skip dinner and go for dessert in bed.

His kisses taste like vanilla and chocolate and _him_.

And maybe a tiny bit like _love_.

* * *

_He just got grazed by a bullet. He's not dead. Breathe, Kensi._

Those are the thoughts running in Kensi's mind that night. Not in that particular order. She has to remind herself a thousand times that he's _not_ dead before allowing herself to breathe, and even when she feels the steady thump of his heart beneath her ear, the gentle rise and fall of his chest as her head lays there on his uninjured side, Kensi is still not _completely_ reassured.

She keeps drifting between sleep and wake, scared to fall into a heavy slumber only to wake up and realize that she's wrong, that life really did turn into nightmare today and that she really _lost_ him. Every time she blinks her eyes, only even for a second, Kensi searches for him, for the confirmation that the shirt her fingers are clenching to really is his, that the dear scent she can smell belongs to him…

She's so tired of those white hospital walls, the chemical scent of antiseptic and death plaguing her every time she has to go there. And every time she closes her eyes, the scenery changes in Kensi's mind: instead of seeing Deeks sitting in some examining room, petulantly whining as Callen and Sam tease him for being such a girl about a tiny bruise, she sees him lying, pale and lifeless, at the morgue. _The bullet just barely grazed his side,_ Kensi repeats in her head like a mantra; tomorrow, he'll be back to work, even for a day stuck in the bullpen with late paperwork.

Kensi feels his hand softly rubbing up and down her arm, the gesture a kind attempt to bring some warmth back to her skin. She's been feeling cold all day; it seems _easier_ to admit she's in shock, even just to herself, somehow – because the fear of losing him is stronger than the embarrassment, an unease Kensi isn't even sure why she still feels. Deeks isn't ashamed of admitting he's afraid to lose her, and his fear doesn't make him any _less_ to her; it doesn't change the fact that he's a damn good cop, that Marty Deeks is one hell of a kind. But…her fear is literally freezing her on the spot. She keeps replaying the scene in her head, trying to figure out what she could have done to prevent this, what _she_ did wrong for him to be injured.

"It's getting exhausting, really," she hears him say softly, the slightest hint of pain in his voice as every intake of breath knocks the air out of his lungs. Very much like her not so long ago, and yet in what feels like another lifetime, he took the impact of the bullet right in the ribs, and a couple of them are cracked. Kensi is tempted to run her fingers over the bandage covering his side underneath his shirt, but as Deeks continues, she realizes that he thinks she's asleep. "I'm tired of worrying about you every single day, and doing that to you, too. We can't spend our life sitting at each other's bedside like this…"

He sighs, heavy and deep, and his lips find the crown of her hair, dropping a flutter of kisses in the dark curls. "How long can we keep this up, Princess ? _Pretending_, I mean."

Kensi wishes she could say she doesn't know what he's talking about, but she does; God, she _does_. It's a game they play because that's the only thing she knows – pretending that this is all just light and fun, that she's not really living with him, that she wasn't scared to death today when she saw him fall to the ground. And Deeks plays along because… Because he _has_ to. Because if he pushes her too much, he fears she might run, and he'd rather have a bit of her than nothing at all; he'd rather have her in his arms every night, lazily sauntering in his apartment dressed in just one of his shirts, softly blushing and then punching one of the guys when they give them the look that says "_we know why you're late, lovebirds, and we're never gonna let you live it down_", than lose her because he asks for too much.

He doesn't feel like asking her to let him in _is_ too much, but… It's too much for _her_. Usually, Deeks can shrug the feeling away; Kensi has issues, he has some too, he knows they're not the most balanced people ever. But they're always just a bullet or a knife to the throat away from dying, a chase after a suspect away from going wrong and leaving one of them _partnerless_. It's a possibility, a risk that never quite let them be – and Deeks is tired of that.

He's tired of pretending he isn't head over heels in love with the woman curled up to his side at the moment.

He's tired of pretending that he doesn't want _more_, more from her, more of her, than movie date nights on the couch or lazy afternoons spent at the beach, chasing after her until he's got her slumped over his shoulder, squirming and throwing threats of bodily harm before he sinks her in the ocean.

He loves that. He does.

But he wants more.

He wants the certainty that she's not a day away from running; an hour, a minute away from saying this is all over.

He wants her to know that he for sure is not going anywhere.

"I know you've heard that before and that you don't really believe in it anymore, but…" He sighs, almost groans in frustration; it's supposed to be easy to tell her since she's sleeping, but the words just sound so wrong, so meaningless. He knows Kensi doesn't believe in pretty words, pretty flowers, pretty smiles – he kind of wishes he could pierce past that last wall and understand what she _needs_, what she _wants_ from him. What he's supposed to _do_, since nothing he can say will be enough.

Kensi's surprised when she doesn't feel the rush of adrenaline rush through her, urging her to jump on her feet and run.

Instead, she just merely keeps her breathing slow and even until the soft patterns on her arm stop and his hold loosens.

The next morning, she makes him breakfast in bed, cereals and soy latte, and he watches her with round eyes when she takes a spoonful from his bowl. "You hate that," he says, confused.

She shrugs. "You hate reality-TV." He frowns. She sighs, and gives his cheek a lingering kiss. "Sometimes you do things for me, sometimes I do things for you. That's all."

"That's all ?"

_No, that's not. That's not all at all._

She pushes the tray aside and balances a leg over his lap, straddling him. "You got a problem with me doing things for you ?"

He smirks. "Nope. Not at all." He puts his hands on her hips and winces when her knee brushes his ribs, but otherwise doesn't complain when she leans in to kiss him. "You're the best nurse ever," he laughs against her mouth.

They're late for work.

Kensi doesn't punch Sam when he calls them lovebirds that morning.

* * *

He doesn't feel any different. The taste of his lips, the feel of his muscles, his scent, the beautiful shade of his eyes… They're the same. And yet, when Kensi looks at him at this moment, surrounded by Sam and Callen and the whole team, his face lit up as everyone cheers and pats his shoulder… There's a fire in her belly that she can't _only_ explain with _desire_.

She will never tell him because his ego would get even bigger – and really, no one needs that – but of course she finds him handsome. Kind of insanely handsome, actually. But it's not that, _no_; as she looks at him, Deeks proudly holding his new badge, the ink still fresh on the papers he just signed, Kensi feels something not quite new, but now _nameable_, rise in her.

_Special Agent Marty Deeks._

Her special agent. Her Deeks, now officially tied to them, to her.

He isn't going anywhere. Because from now on, wherever he goes, she follows. There will never be again a time when she's not there to have his back, no risk of Lt. Bates calling him back or cutting his ties with them. He's there to stay.

He chose to stay, with her. He made the decision to be there for her. She knows how much it meant to him to be a cop, and yet, here he is, ready to stand weeks of Callen and Sam's teasing about him being the newbie, the Junior Agent, the one who gets to crawl in air conducts and do the paperwork for a month.

It's in that moment that she realizes that she wouldn't have enough of a lifetime to thank him for everything he did for her; that she never did even half of what he did for her.

And, as the realization hits her and dawns in, she realizes that this hunger, this fire she has for him _isn't_ what cements their relationship. That this feeling she gets in the afterglow, when he wraps his arms around her, or when he catches her staring at him and sends her a carefree, happy smile before calling her, asking her to join them, looping an arm around her shoulders, saying that he doesn't mind being the new junior agent if Kensi gets to be the one teaching him the job… It's that feeling she couldn't - _wouldn't_ – name, that overwhelms her now.

It's familiar at the same time as it feels new, renewed.

And it feels good. Incredibly good, both to feel it again, and to let herself _feel_.

"So how does it feel ?" Callen asks, and Kensi is startled for a second before understanding that he's talking to Deeks.

"Well, this one is still gonna boss me around," Deeks laughs, gently tightening his hold around Kensi's neck. "And you guys are still gonna give me hell about my hair, my dog, my law jargon and everything else, so… It feels normal, I guess." He laughs good-naturedly, his thumb tracing softly his new shining badge. "Is it just me, or do I look hot on that picture ?" he asks, playfully cocking an eyebrow as Nell blushes, and Sam just snorts.

"You look _okay_," Kensi replies, yet snaking an arm around his waist as he presses her closer to him. She bumps into his hip, going with the lightness, the joy of the moment – it's possibly the happiest she's felt in the longest time.

In forever.

In the not so far distance, she hears Hetty say that the first round's on her.

Callen tells her not to be cheap; after all, it's not every day they adopt a puppy.

"Hey, I resent that," Deeks calls after him as his hand finds the small of Kensi's back, leading her as he tries to follow the rest of the team. But she stays where she is, and he turns around, a puzzled look on his face. "You not coming to my party, my sweet ?"

God, she hates the cheesy pet names - or at least, she likes to pretend she does.

But, she _loves_ him, so…

"I just wanted you for my own for a moment," she shrugs, watching the others leave before grabbing the lapels of his jacket, pulling him to her. "To congratulate you, Special Agent Deeks."

He grins as he settles his hands low on her hips. "Or, is _that_ what you wanted to do, Special Agent Blye ? Because I feel like you had something _else_ in mind…" He lowers his head to her ear, and his breath tickles her as he slurs, "Something involving the two of us all alone at OSP, maybe ?"

She sort of hates that he can make her blush so easily.

She kind of loves the thrill that the innuendo in his tone and words has running through her.

"You're a pig," she huffs, looking around one last time before tip-toeing to reach him and pull him into a kiss. Kensi doesn't know if she hates or loves how silly he's made her.

Deeks is slightly taken aback at the display of affection, even in the now empty bullpen, but he goes along, wrapping an arm around her waist to bring her close. "But I'm _your_ pig, right ?" he asks as he pulls back. "There's no giving me back now, you know that ? We're as good as married now, the kids would be devastated," he jokes, a little frown flicking on his features, though. "We can't shake the ground underneath them now that poor little Callen has found some sort of stability."

This time, there's no denying it: Kensi _giggles_.

She doesn't even care about whether she hates or loves that.

She loves him.

And that's enough of a reason to.

"Good," she finally says, tugging at his sleeve as she leads him out. "Because I wasn't planning on it."

When everyone goes home after one last hug or pat on the shoulder, Kensi leans her elbows on the table, tilting her body to him. He looks her in the eye, a spark in those ocean pools that she can't quite place; it's undeniably _Deeks_ – cocky, caring, teasing, loving. It's a look she's come to love, and she needs him to look at her like this for the rest of her life.

"You know I love you, right ?" she half-says, half-asks. It comes out before she can stop it; not that she would have wanted to, though. Kensi isn't even surprised when she realizes that the old shame is no longer there, nor the fear.

"'Course I do," he shrugs nonchalantly, wrapping an arm around her as he brings his glass to his lips.

She reckons she loves him even more for that – for the way he's not making a big deal out of it. She knows that deep inside, he's been dying to hear her say those words, even though she'd gotten better at _showing_ what she felt. "I wouldn't put myself through months of misery at work for no reason, Kiki," he smirks before bringing a gentle fingertip to her nose. "I know you're gonna make it up to me for the way the big bad boys treat me all day, won't you ?" She snorts. "Because you love me, you know ?" he adds, teasing her. "Good thing, because I love you too. I'm glad we got that figured out."

She tells him again on the drive back home. He tells her she's getting sappy.

She realizes it's true, and laughs.

Kensi puts her badge away with his shiny new one in the top drawer of the nightstand on his side of the bed that night.

And it stays there, even when they finally move in that bigger place.

* * *

_the end_


End file.
